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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960392">When the Sweet Taste is Gone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella'>Ghost_in_the_Hella</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To All of You (prompt fills) [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Life Is Strange (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, Underage Drinking, all the feels, amberprice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:21:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe isn’t fully sure if she’s actually awake right now, but Rachel’s warm and solid and Chloe’s colder than she realized under the warm buzz of a six-pack of stolen beer and most of Rachel’s whipped cream flavored vodka, so she does her best to not be a total deadweight when the world moves beneath her feet like pudding. “Where’re we goin’?” she asks, or tries to. Her lips are numb and she’s not sure if it’s from alcohol poisoning or the snow falling lightly through the total lack of roof on the junk shack.</p><p>“To get you warm. This isn’t okay.”</p><p>---</p><p>Chloe tries to escape the only way that she knows how.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rachel Amber &amp; Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To All of You (prompt fills) [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When the Sweet Taste is Gone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/explosionshark/gifts">explosionshark</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Explosionshark prompted me on tumblr with "Are you cold?" and amberprice. I was planning to write something fluffy with camping, and then this angst bomb dropped instead. Title from the Brian Fallon song Honey Magnolia.</p><p>CW for underage drinking, excessive drinking and severe drunkenness, referenced domestic abuse, mild blood and injury, and self-harm by neglect.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you cold?”</p><p>Chloe shakes herself awake at the sound of Rachel’s voice. She’s drunk enough still that she doesn’t particularly feel the cold, but as she props herself up and rubs her eyes - flinching when she grazes the barely crusted-over cut on her eyebrow - she notices that the wet spots on her face she’d assumed were tears are in fact melted snowflakes. “‘M fine,” she croaks, squinting at the shadowy impression of Rachel standing in the open doorway of the junk shack as if that will lessen the darkness.</p><p>The world dips dangerously to the left as she tries to prop herself up, and if she weren’t already on the ground she’d certainly fall to it. Her hand lands on a crushed out cigarette butt, still a bit warm. Lucky she didn’t burn down the shack; Rach would be bummed if her fashion magazines got wrecked.</p><p>“Easy, easy,” Rachel says, and suddenly she’s right up in Chloe’s face, helping to steady her. She brushes the hair back from Chloe’s face and studies her in the moonlight. Sorrow creases her forehead and softens her eyes. It hurts when her fingers graze Chloe’s eyebrow, but Chloe doesn’t pull away. “Okay,” Rachel says as though she’s coming to a decision. She slips an arm under Chloe’s armpits and starts tugging Chloe to her feet. </p><p>Chloe isn’t fully sure if she’s actually awake right now, but Rachel’s warm and solid and Chloe’s colder than she realized under the warm buzz of a six-pack of stolen beer and most of Rachel’s whipped cream flavored vodka, so she does her best to not be a total deadweight when the world moves beneath her feet like pudding. “Where’re we goin’?” she asks, or tries to. Her lips are numb and she’s not sure if it’s from alcohol poisoning or the snow falling lightly through the total lack of roof on the junk shack.</p><p>“To get you warm. This isn’t okay.”</p><p>“I tol’ you, ‘m fine.”</p><p>“And you’re a terrible liar. C’mon. Easy does it.”</p><p>Chloe stumbles through the darkness half-blind with drunkenness and is only spared from faceplanting multiple times by Rachel’s careful steering. The mess in the junk shack is worse than usual, since she blew off some steam wrecking shit up before (and during) her drinking binge. She’d have trouble navigating it sober, but Rachel walks through the mess with catlike grace.</p><p>It isn’t snowing hard, but it’s enough that there’s a light dusting coating the junkyard. Chloe opens her mouth as they emerge into the open night and tries to catch the falling flakes on her tongue. It tastes like her childhood, and that makes her heart hurt.</p><p>“Up,” Rachel instructs her, and Chloe does her best to follow her guidance. She slips and smacks her chin on Rachel’s knee as she’s tugged up into the bed of her truck, tastes blood and it’s almost a comfort; that kind of hurt is the one that she can handle. “You’re a mess,” Rachel tells her using her kind voice, the one she only uses when she’s really worried. Chloe curls up with her head in Rachel’s lap. Rachel pulls a heavy blanket over her, one of the ones they usually use for camping on the beach, one that smells like wood smoke and Rachel’s perfume, and Chloe tries to remember if she had actually thought to grab any blankets when she stormed out of the house. “You’re freezing,” Rachel scolds her gently, tucking her in and brushing snow-damp hair from her forehead once again.</p><p>“I’m imperf– oblivious?– im<em>perv</em>ious to the cold,” Chloe assures her, nuzzling into Rachel's legs. </p><p>“You’re something, alright.” Rachel strokes the side of Chloe’s face until Chloe feels consciousness starting to slip mercifully away again. “If he ever touches you again,” Rachel says quietly in a tone that means violence, “I’m going to destroy him.”</p><p>“Jus’ make sure I don’ get blamed f’r it,” Chloe mumbles drowsily into her thigh. She peers up with one eye at Rachel and sees her staring into the middle distance like she’s planning Step-dick’s murder as they speak. “Hey. Are <em>you </em>cold?”</p><p>Rachel shakes her head. “I don’t get cold anymore,” she says. Her eyelashes are freckled with melting snowflakes. She’s only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, a completely ridiculous outfit for the weather even by Chloe’s standards. Chloe peels back the blanket, letting her stored body heat escape in a rush. Rachel scowls down at her. “What’re you doing?” she asks. “You’re all goosebumps. Don’t take the blanket off.”</p><p>“Get in here,” Chloe insists. “We c’n both be warm,” she slurs reasonably, hoping that the words are making it out of her mouth intact.</p><p>Rachel blurs and wobbles in her double vision, incandescent in the starlight and Chloe’s beer goggles. “Fine, you big baby.” She crawls under the blanket and Chloe snuggles into her. She smells good, like she always does. Jasmine and the faint scent of her sweat under it, plus something earthy and unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant. Chloe suspects that she herself smells awful, but she’s used to that by now. </p><p>“You’re pretty,” Chloe mumbles as she burrows into the safety of Rachel’s neck.</p><p>“You’re drunk,” Rachel answers with an indulgent and bittersweet smile. “Go to sleep.”</p><p>Chloe passes out drunk before she can say any more of the stupid things that rattle around in her head 24/7, and that amounts to pretty much the same thing.</p><p>When Chloe wakes in the morning she’s got a raging hangover, a stiff neck from sleeping in her truck bed, and a mouth that tastes like bad decisions. Her eyebrow is throbbing faintly. It’s warm under the blanket but cold outside: she can see her breath rising from her lips like ghosts. The snow must have melted overnight; there’s nothing left but occasional damp patches on the ground.</p><p>She fumbles her dying phone out of her pocket and checks for messages. There’re half a dozen from Joyce, some of which seem concerned but none of which actually admit that her shitbag second husband was in the wrong. No new messages from Rachel, which isn’t a surprise anymore but still hurts. She thumbs open their text history and scrolls through the sea of unanswered messages she’s sent Rachel over the last five months until she finds Rachel’s last messages to her.</p><p>
  <b>Rach: Hey srry I was a bitch earlier</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Rach: Come pick me up? I”ll make it up 2 u ;)</b>
</p><p>Chloe does the dumb thing that she’s been promising herself she wouldn’t do anymore: she calls her. It goes straight to voicemail, the same way it has ever since that first week of silence. She listens to Rachel’s voice telling her to leave a message at the tone, then the now-familiar robotic voice telling her that this mailbox is full before the call disconnects. Chloe crawls back under the blanket with her half-dead phone and her half-dead hopes, and she talks to her anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am... so sorry. Rachel was alive when I started writing this, and then my brain went "but what if Ghost Rachel."</p><p>Thank you to explosionshark for the prompt and to all of you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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